


Nightbreak

by crystalusagi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Bloodlust, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Secret Snarry Swap 2013, Vampire Harry, Vampires, cruelty to rabbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalusagi/pseuds/crystalusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an Auror raid before Christmas Harry is captured by vampires and turned.  Snape tries to cure him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightbreak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starduchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/gifts).



> Thanks to tofsla for all her help and support with this fic. Wouldn't be able to finish this without her. A gift fic for starduchess written as a part of the 2013 Secret Snarry Swap on snape_potter on LJ.

The first thought that enters Severus' mind when he wakes in the dark, wrapped in blankets that are not enough to keep him warm, is that it's too damn cold. Heating charms need to be renewed; he adds the task to the long mental list of things to be done before the new year arrives. He's about to go back to sleep again, in spite of the cold, when he hears another ring and realizes that it wasn't the cold that had woken him up, but the damn doorbell.  
  
He doesn't know who he expects to be behind the door when he yanks it open, but it certainly is not Hermione Granger, standing there with her hands stuffed into the pockets of a great brown coat, nose and large eyes equally red.  
  
"Hello, Professor," she greets him. "May I come in?" The request is made in a reasonable tone; it's a tone that expects compliance.  
  
He resists the urge to snap  _don't call me that_ , and instead gives her his most disobliging stare. "Perhaps you might first explain what brought you here to my doorstep at half-past five in the morning, Ms. Granger."  
  
She frowns, hesitating. He can see her hands twist in the pockets of her coat. "I'd rather discuss it inside," she says in a low voice. "Please. It's about Harry."  
  
///  
  
Granger's news, delivered in a halting voice as she sits in Severus' armchair, has the effect of causing his blood to run completely cold. The chilliness of shoddy heating charms cannot even begin to compare.  
  
"They want to lock him up," she continues. "After all he's done--" She exhales sharply, her mouth settling into a hard line for a moment. "He's at home with Ron now, but I don't know how much longer we can hold him. He's hungry." She meets Severus' eyes. "I've read your articles on the cures you've been developing for lycanthropy and vampirism. Is there anything you can--"  
  
"There are potions, but they do little more than dampen the effect," he interrupts. He frowns, remembering the dull gazes of his unwilling test subjects. He slams the door shut on those thoughts before he can imagine Potter in their place. He'll certainly see for himself, soon enough.  
  
"Then we'll have to find something else," Granger murmurs. "I won't let them lock him up like a dirty little secret. I'll have to take him somewhere..."  
  
"And do what with him? Need I remind you that he is still a powerful wizard? You are the parent of small children. What will you do when Potter inevitably escapes and drinks them dry?"  
  
There is a very brief flash of despair in her eyes, because she knows that everything Severus says is true. She blinks and it is gone. "Then…"  
  
 _I will never be rid of him, will I?_  he asks silently, to no one in particular. No, he supposes he never will. "Take him to the old Order headquarters and wait for me," he instructs. Having once housed both a werewolf and a hippogriff, Grimmauld Place is the likeliest location to keep a vampiric Harry Potter. "I will come to you there, and take charge of him."  
  
"What will you do?"  
  
" _Cure_  him," he snarls impatiently. "Or destroy him, if I can't. Now hurry, Granger. You haven't much time."  
  
  
///  
  
It comes as no surprise that packing up the entirety of his existence does not take very long. There are clothes, and his toothbrush, and the ingredients he cannot easily obtain while in hiding. He deposits all of these into a spelled brewing cauldron. Everything else, he leaves behind.  
  
If attempting to cure a vampiric Harry Potter does not kill him he can renew the heating charms and fix the leaking tap when he comes back.  
  
///  
  
They had to stun him in order to bring him here. After working a three-way Imperturbable charm, Severus sends Weasley and Granger home, with instructions not to come back unless he owls them. Now, alone on the sitting room sofa at 12 Grimmauld Place, he stares down at a bound and unconscious Harry Potter and grimaces.  
  
"Why is it that I must always come to your rescue?" he asks. It is more a question to himself than one directed at Potter, and a rhetorical one, at that. He knows exactly why he comes running whenever Potter is in trouble.  
  
  
///  
  
He installs Potter in a small bedroom on the ground floor close to the spot where Walburga Black's portrait used to hang. Potter is placed on the bed and strapped in. Multiple wards and protection spells are set. He crouches by the bed and tests and retests Potter's bonds until he is sure they won't give. Or, at least, until he is sure enough to leave Potter alone for the time it takes to set up his workroom next door.  
  
He's in the middle of brewing a sleeping draught when the wards inform him that Potter is awake.  
  
"Snape," Potter gasps, shaking and sweating. "Help me?"  
  
"Yes," he answers. The desperation in Potter's eyes shocks him. Severus has seen it so many times before, but not in someone he knows. Not in someone he's vowed to protect.  _You knew this would be difficult._  And yet, looking at Potter, Severus begins to doubt that he has the willpower left for this.  
  
"Good," Potter sighs, eyes tearing up in what must be relief. He twists against his bonds. "Please. Feed me."  
  
///  
  
Severus examines the pale-faced, hollow-eyed man in front of him. His skin has taken on a green tint, and even his hair has more silver streaks than it previously had. He looks like a ghost.  
  
"Ready to collapse yet?" his mirror image sneers.  
  
"No," he tells it. He looks down at the bowl covering the drain and picks up the knife. The edge cuts into his palm, the pain sharp and immediate.  
  
///  
  
One can live with a person for years and not truly know him. Severus can attest to this. He would never have guessed that he could be so fascinated by this.  
  
He watches as his blood, thick and red, pours drop by drop into Potter's open mouth, hits the pink surface of Potter's tongue, Potter's throat working as he swallows. Potter moans and writhes, enjoys it so much, as if Severus' blood is the best thing he's ever tasted.  
  
Potter loves Severus' blood. He loves it so much that he gets hard, cock pushing at the fabric of his robes as he laps up the droplets of Severus' blood that land on his lips, at the corners of his mouth.  
  
It's a chemical response, Severus knows. He has seen it before, in other vampires, but it was never like this. It was never his blood, and it was never Potter.  
  
///  
  
Severus spends the waking hours which are not dedicated to feeding and monitoring Potter researching and brewing potions to keep Potter's symptoms at bay. The most stable batch from his previous research only serves to take the edge off. The first few days, Potter has to be kept on sleeping draughts while Severus goes out to gather the necessary supplies.  
  
He finds a Muggle breeder of small rabbits, reasonably priced and relatively close to 12 Grimmauld Place. He purchases two dozen and sets them up in a little pen in his workroom.  
  
///  
  
Eventually the potions improve. They get to the point where Potter is able to sit and talk to him, as long as Severus is not too close. Severus still keeps his wand out and the wards on the bed up. Potter watches every movement he makes; he hovers on the brink of control. He's just had his morning meal; he's able to speak to Severus and not beg for more blood. Not for a while, yet.  
  
"How is the research going?" he asks Severus in a raspy voice.  
  
Severus thinks about the rabbits he put in the cage together the day before, about how he found them in the morning. "Steadily."  
  
"Do you think you'll find it? The cure?" Does he hope? There is certainly no indication of it in his tone.  
  
Severus curses himself silently. He never should have mentioned he was working on anything. Should have let Potter believe that he is going to keep him here indefinitely, to torture him and stare at the hard-ons he gets when he drinks Severus' blood.  
  
Merlin.  
  
"There is no other option, is there?" he growls, self-disgust making him caustic. He wheels out of the room before Potter can ask him any more questions.  
  
He comes back at dinnertime and sets the flask of blood on the nightstand of Potter's bed. He doesn't stay to watch this time.  
  
///  
  
"It's Christmas soon, isn't it?" Potter asks one day, after he's had his fill of Severus' blood.  
  
Christmas has already passed, was gone weeks ago, but Severus nods anyway.  
  
"I was supposed to spend Christmas with my kids," Potter volunteers, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Ginny sees other people, but she always brings the kids over and we have Christmas together."  
  
"Are you trying for sympathy, Potter?"  
  
Potter shakes his head. "Nah. I can't, really. She told me to stop taking dangerous risks, but I never listened, so she left me." His voice is bitter. "She was right."  
  
Severus grits his teeth. He is fairly sure anger won't do him any good now, but it comes, nonetheless. "You wouldn't be Harry Potter if you weren't so reckless."  
  
"Those vampires thought it was funny. To turn Harry Potter. They wouldn't have, otherwise. They would've killed me instead."  
  
 _Is that what you prefer?_  Severus doesn't ask the obvious question. He doesn't think he wants to know the answer.  
  
///  
  
There is a heavy weight on top of him. He tries not to panic, though he can already feel himself tensing up. There is something sharp against his throat. What can Potter have found? His mind supplies the item, the blood-filled flask glinting on the night stand in his memory.  
  
What need does Potter have of a weapon, when he has--  
  
" _Snape_ ," Potter rasps. "I know you're awake. I can hear your heart beating."  
  
He opens his eyes. Even in the darkness, he can see Potter's eyes gazing wildly down at him. "You broke the wards." Redundant. Of course he fucking did.  
  
Potter nods, an almost angry jerk of his neck. "Too weak to hold me." He hesitates. "Didn't want to. I don't want to do this."  
  
He can feel Potter's arms trembling, the effort to keep control too much for him to maintain. Potter's hand slips just enough. He hears a sharp gasp as Potter removes the shard of glass he's pressed to Severus' neck and instead shoves his face against Severus' skin, right above his left clavicle.  
  
Severus can't suppress the shudder; it rolls through his body as Potter licks at the drop of blood that wells up on his neck, the rough texture of his tongue making the cut sting.  
  
"Feels so good," Potter whispers, nuzzling at Severus' neck, voice vibrating with need. "It always feels good, especially when you watch me."  
  
 _I don't know what you're talking about_  doesn't come as readily as he thought it might.  
  
"I  _know_  you watch me," Potter continues in that ragged voice, "and it drives me  _mad_. Makes me want to take it from you." Potter moves against him, and Severus can feel the length of Potter's cock pressing against his thigh. He feels himself responding.  
  
"Potter," he begins, then loses his train of thought. It's difficult to think with Potter licking at his neck, teasing more drops of blood to the surface. "Will you cease frotting against me like a dog in heat and control yourself?" He makes his voice as commanding as he can, under the circumstances.  
  
Potter doesn't listen. "Admit it. You love it when I drink your blood. You watch me get hard for you and you fucking love it."  
  
"You're mistaken," he tells Potter. An outright lie. He's always been so good with lies.  _"I can hear your heart beating_." Can he hear it beating in Severus' chest now, so hard he can barely breathe?  
  
"I'm not." Potter opens his mouth. Severus feels the sharp points of his fangs scraping at his skin and shudders again. When Potter tilts his head up and asks in a shaky voice, in a voice that does nothing to contain his need, "Can I?" Severus can't speak. He nods, instead.  
  
Potter's fangs pierce his flesh. The image of Nagini flashes through his mind, and he feels a moment of panic before he is able to remind himself that this is still Potter, even this desperate and deranged Potter intent on bleeding him. The panic disappears and Severus is left only with the sensation of being drawn out, pulled apart. Potter is tasting him, drinking up the essence of his life.  
  
Severus abandons himself to the feeling of being pinned down and taken, of having Potter strong and unyielding on top of him, hips thrusting in a pantomime of sex.  
  
No, not a pantomime, after all. Potter's mouth is clamped to his neck but Potter's hands move to touch him, to slip under the thin nightshirt, clawing their way up his thighs and gripping at his hips. He feels Potter's fingers close firmly around his cock.  
  
 _He doesn't know what he's doing_ , Severus thinks. Potter is driven by bloodlust, it is the only explanation.  
  
It continues for an eternity, pain and pleasure swirling in a hazy cloud around them. At last, Potter pulls back.  
  
The pain recedes. Severus feels an acute sense of loss.  
  
Potter's face is still centimeters away from his. Blood is dripping down the corner of his mouth and Severus feels a nearly overwhelming urge to lift up and lick it away. "Satisfied?" Severus asks. The word comes out in a croak.  
  
"No," says Potter, marginally calmer, and lowers his mouth onto Severus'. Severus tastes his own blood, salty and metallic, as Potter's tongue slides against his.  
  
///  
  
Morning comes. Severus opens his eyes to find Potter curled up in a ball at the foot of his bed. Severus can feel him trembling.  
  
"You're awake."  
  
 _No, I am dreaming. A nightmare._  
  
"Snape?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I almost killed you. You were so still I thought you'd died." Potter says it in a small, horrified voice that is laced with the usual early-morning hunger. He hasn't stopped trembling.  
  
"You haven't," Severus tells him. "Get up. I have to cast the wards again."  
  
///  
  
After Potter's escape he owls Granger and Weasley. They come to help him strengthen the wards.  
  
"How're you doing, mate?" Weasley asks in a tentative voice, hovering at the edge of the bed. Severus has to hold back an impatient remark: how does he  _think_  Potter is doing?  
  
Potter manages a smile for his friend, his gaze moving swiftly over to Severus, then back again. "Snape takes care of me."  
  
"That's good," Weasley replies, and  _smiles_  at Severus, a grateful smile. If he knew all the things Severus has done to 'take care' of Potter, he wouldn't be smiling at him.  
  
Granger is more observant. The look she gave him when he opened the door for her was long and assessing; she can see the changes in Severus, even if Weasley remains oblivious. "How have you been feeding him?" she asks. "If it's become a problem, we could--"  
  
"I am quite capable of handling this on my own," he interrupts. He adds a scowl, for good measure. "As I said, I will owl if I need you."  
  
Severus sees the hunger already creeping back in, despite Potter's feeding not 2 hours ago. Soon, perhaps two feedings a day will not be enough. He doesn't meet the piercing gaze that Potter directs at him. If he does, he might have to explain why he doesn't want to contemplate the idea of Potter drinking someone else's blood.  
  
///  
  
The rabbit looks up at him with beady red eyes. It hops, and Severus nearly drops his wand.  
  
It is not dead.  
  
///  
  
Potter's throat works as he drinks from the flask, emptying it quickly as Severus observes him. When Potter is finished, he licks his lips. Then, eyes watching Severus closely, he licks the rim of the flask.  
  
"Are you quite finished?" Severus growls. He waits for Potter to set the flask back onto the nightstand and levitates it away from him.  
  
Potter considers him, brows furrowed. "How  _do_  you keep--donating?"  
  
"Blood replenishing potions," he answers, as if it explains everything. He doesn't tell Potter that he takes more than he should and casts healing spells on himself every night in front of the bathroom mirror.  
  
"Oh," says Potter.  
  
Severus is close to perfecting the cure; there is nothing left to do except to continue onwards.  
  
///  
  
He enters the workroom in the morning to find his 5th test subject in the corner of its cage, lying still. Its eyes are closed. Holding his breath, Severus places a hand over the small body.  
  
No breathing.  
  
He spins around to check the cages where he's placed the first four test subjects for the new potion. Numbers 1 through 4 stare back at him, their noses twitching. The cure has not failed yet. Not completely.  
  
///  
  
The second time Potter breaks the wards, Severus is jolted awake to find Potter kneeling between his legs. In the darkness he can just make out the glint of Potter's eyes as he shoves Severus' nightshirt out of the way.  
  
Neither of them says anything. Potter strokes him until he's panting and twitching in Potter's grasp.  
  
"What are you doing?" he finally asks, when Potter leans down, tongue snaking out to swipe across the head of his cock.  
  
Potter remains silent. He holds Severus down and sucks him, and when Severus comes Potter doesn't pull back, just takes all of him down his throat. He can taste his come when Potter kisses him. He kisses back.  
  
Severus can feel Potter's fangs when they descend and he runs his tongue along the points of them, pricks himself on them, listens to Potter groan, feels Potter crush him tighter against his body. "Let me, Snape, let me," Potter pleads in a desperate whisper, teeth catching at Severus' bottom lip.  
  
"Do it," Severus replies in a strangled voice, his resentment at being made to assent losing to other emotions he doesn't care to name. "Just do it."  
  
///  
  
After that Severus doesn't bother with the wards in Potter's room. He bolts the doors and windows leading outside, instead, and threatens Potter with Cruciatus should Potter ever attempt to enter his workroom.  
  
Potter comes to him whenever he is in need of a meal, and Severus offers himself. Potter's visits become more frequent.  
  
Sometimes they have sex.  
  
In the little spare time that Severus has, he scours medical journals for any mention that vampires commonly fuck their intended prey before feeding. He finds nothing. Potter has always been an anomaly.  
  
///  
  
Severus is observing as test subject number 23 nibbles on a cabbage leaf when he hears the ringing. It doesn't sound like the doorbell. Is Potter doing something…  
  
He blinks, and the world goes white.  
  
///  
  
When Severus opens his eyes Potter is sitting on a chair by his bed, his fingers digging into the padded cushion. Severus can see that there are big tears in the fabric.  
  
"You were out for six hours," Potter informs him in an accusatory voice.  
  
He attempts to sit up, and notices that his right forearm has been inexpertly wrapped with thick bandages.  
  
"Cut yourself on some glass when you fell," explains Potter. His eyes cut away. "There was a lot of blood. I did my best."  
  
Severus examines the bandages and wonders whether he will see bite marks along with the cuts underneath when he unwraps them. "I thought I told you not to go into the workroom."  
  
"YOU  _COLLAPSED!_ " Potter explodes. The arms of the chair creak as Potter grips them hard in an effort to hold back.  
  
"I didn't know you cared so much," Severus mutters, deliberately ignoring Potter's outbreak. "I suppose you disliked having to miss a meal."  
  
Potter knocks the chair over when he stands up, and storms out of the room.  
  
///  
  
When he is well enough to get out of bed, Severus goes to the workroom to assess the damage. He's relieved to discover that his work has not been compromised by the unexpected fall. It was just an empty glass bottle that he'd knocked over.  
  
 _"There was a lot of blood,"_  Potter said. Severus sees no trace of blood on the floor.  
  
At least two of his rabbits are missing.  
  
///  
  
He finds Potter huddled in a corner of his bed. It takes a visible effort, but Potter ignores the flask of blood that Severus sets down on the nightstand for him.  
  
"You can't keep feeding me. You'll die." Potter's voice breaks on the last word, and he presses closer to the wall, as if he wants to sink into it.  
  
"If you would rather I allow  _you_  to die--"  
  
"You have the cure. I saw the--the rabbits in the workroom." Potter's tone is so accusing that for a moment Severus wants to laugh. Anger follows swiftly after.  
  
"Yes, Potter, I have the cure but really just prefer to let you  _bleed me to death_ ," he shouts, feeling his control slip out of his grip. "It is not complete, you imbecile! It has as much chance of killing as it does of curing you!"  
  
"But it  _might_  work!"  
  
"Do you think I've locked myself up in this cursed place for months and shoved blood replenishing potions down my throat every day just so you can gamble away your life?" he snarls.  
  
"What about  _your_  life?" Potter practically screams at him. There is a rumble, a spark, and the flask of blood on the nightstand topples over and crashes to the floor.  
  
Severus stares at the bloody mess for a second, then turns and walks away.  
  
///  
  
Severus briefly considers returning to the workroom to brew another test-batch of the cure, but he's suddenly too tired to contemplate the mess that he left behind after ensuring that nothing hazardous was spilled from his collapse.  
  
He goes back to bed instead and resolves to remain there. Let Potter come to find him if he needs a feeding. Severus has had enough absurdity for one day.  
  
///  
  
Potter does come to find him, long after the sun has set and the room, unlit by candles, is immersed in darkness. Potter always seeks him out in the dark, and who can blame him? Severus can hardly stand the look of himself in the mirror, these days.  
  
"Don't be angry with me," Potter implores in a small voice as he slips underneath the covers. His arm curls around Severus' thin hips, fingertips pressing against Severus' abdomen through the fabric of his robes. "You're the only one left. You--can't."  
  
The admission, said in an uneven voice as Potter clutches Severus to his body, makes it hard for Severus to breathe. It isn't as though he didn't already know that he is solely responsible for Potter, has always been responsible for him, but to have Potter say it aloud, to have Potter depend on him--  
  
He doesn't know whether the emotion he is feeling is despair or exaltation.  
  
Potter places a kiss on the back of his neck, and Severus allows himself to lean back against him, to fall into a comfortable and familiar trap. Potter's hands roam over his body, kneading and stroking with unprecedented gentleness--perhaps Potter fears he will break again.  
  
He turns and pushes Potter down into the mattress, rocking against him, proves to Potter that he is very much not broken, not yet.  
  
Potter moans into his mouth, and they jerk each other off hurriedly, and when Potter comes he says Severus' name, just once, and Severus presses his cheek against Potter and holds him until it is over.  
  
He expects Potter to want his blood, afterwards. He rolls over onto his back, waits for Potter to lean over and sink his fangs somewhere, take what he so desperately needs from Severus. Potter doesn't move.  
  
After a while Severus shifts onto his side so that he can see Potter's face. Potter is staring out the window, into the darkness.  
  
Severus sits up. "What is it?"  
  
Potter's eyes land on Severus, and they grow soft, apologetic. Severus feels dread tingling down his spine.  
  
"I took a vial of that potion you were brewing," Potter tells him. He attempts to grin at Severus, but it turns out all wrong, shifts into something more like a grimace. Severus feels like someone has just hit him in the gut.  
  
"When did you drink it?" he asks.  
  
"Right after you left. I swallowed it down before cleaning up all the blood."  
  
That was nearly eight hours ago. By Severus' estimation, Potter has only until sunrise.  
  
///  
  
Severus leaves Potter in bed and goes to his workroom, where he notices that another rabbit has succumbed in its cage. The line of long glass vials is uninterrupted, but he sees it now, the one vial that is half a shade lighter than the rest. Potter very likely transfigured some water to look like the potion. How could Severus not have noticed before? He curses himself for his carelessness.  
  
Then he curses Potter, loudly and rather incoherently, and casts the contents of the work surface onto the floor in one wide sweep of his arms, dead rabbit and all. The rabbits that are still alive jump in their cages.  
  
He stares at the resulting mess, fizzling and smoking at his feet. The white rabbit lies in a little lump, its fangs peeking out of its open mouth. Its eyes are open and lifeless.  
  
///  
  
Potter is still in Severus' room waiting for him when he stalks back in. The lights have been turned on, and Potter has drawn the blankets up around him, as if warding himself from the cold. As if he can feel cold.  
  
Severus considers yelling at Potter, screaming at him, telling Potter what an ungrateful little shit he is, but he's too tired, and what would be the use, now? "What the devil possessed you?" he asks instead.  
  
"I just wanted it to be over," Potter answers in a rough voice. "I'm a  _monster_. What I did to you--you look like a corpse." He shakes his head, bringing up a hand to press against his temple. "What's worse is I can't even regret it. Drinking your blood," he looks straight into Severus' eyes, "it felt so fucking good I didn't want to stop. Not even when you were lying unconscious on the floor, bleeding. I couldn't--I couldn't  _not_ \--and then it was so hard to stop. One day I won't be able to stop, and I'll kill you."  
  
Of course it would never occur to Potter that Severus might prefer that kind of death. It is only fitting that he die attempting to save Potter. That was always the plan. Any other death would have been a lesser one. "Do you think that I can just go back to my little house and continue as normal, knowing that I failed to save you  _again_ , Potter?" Severus hardly knows what he is saying, he is so angry.  
  
Potter stares at him. "You wouldn't--"  
  
"No," Severus snaps. "I wouldn't kill myself."  
  
He would live; that would be the problem.  
  
"I'm sorry, Snape." Severus is the person who should be apologizing, but it doesn't surprise him that Potter takes this from him, too; Potter has always been unspeakably selfish.  
  
///  
  
Dawn is approaching. Severus sits in bed with Potter and watches as the sky begins to lighten.  
  
"What will happen?" Potter asks quietly. His fingers twitch against the bedsheets.  
  
"No way to know for sure. It might be different. You are not a rabbit."  
  
Potter smiles at this, leans more heavily against Severus' side. "But you know what might happen."  
  
"You will feel a tightness in your chest. You won't be able to breathe, and before long, your heart will stop. And then you will either awaken again, or…"  
  
"Or I'll stay dead."  
  
Severus nods. Potter will either live, or he will die. "It should begin soon." They sit in silence, waiting.  
  
He knows it has started when Potter tenses, and reaches out to grasp tightly at his hand.  
  
"Snape," he gasps, already out of breath. Potter's other hand comes up to pull Severus' face close. "Please," he whispers. "Before--"  
  
Their lips touch; they are kissing before Potter has a chance to say the rest.  
  
  
~the end~

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos much loved and appreciated!


End file.
